Frerard oneshot. Frank is remembering that first time they kissed, when he's interrupted by news from Gerard.
Disclaimer: don't own MCR. I also have no disrespect whatsoever for LynZ, I appreciate her immensely. This story is purely fictional; I have no idea how long it actually takes stab wounds to heal if they're not stitched professionally, and I frankly don't care.
THERE IS ATTEMPTED SUICIDE IN THIS
100% Frank's POV
Edit@4-10: sorry. Found a grammar mistake and had to fix it. Cuz i'm OCD like that.
"Argh!" I yelled, furiously punching the "power" button on the TV. Said TV had, once again, failed to distract me from the unhealthy thoughts that swirled around in the dark cavern that was my tortured mind. My thoughts reminded me of tennis matches:
He's your best friend.
That shouldn't matter.
How do you know?
That kiss wasn't real.
How do you know?
He told you afterwards!
Well, how do you know he was telling the truth?
What makes you think he was lying?
Umm...well, it felt real...
He has a girlfriend.
As I couldn't think of a counterargument to this, I flopped on my bed, rubbing my sleep-deprived eyes. Even though it was months ago, that kiss kept replaying in my mind...
Ray's solo was breathtaking, as always, but I had eyes only for Gerard as he pranced around the stage. He visited all of us, dancing over to Mikey, to Ray, to Bob, then finally to me. He leaned in toward my face and danced away, grinning. I smiled breathlessly. I mean, it wasn't like he was trying to be otherworldly. He wasn't intentionally making me melt under his hazel gaze.
Soon, the solo was almost over. I braced myself, forcing my knees to resist buckling when Gerard's angelic voice blew me away. You'd think I'd've gotten used to it by now, but in all honesty-
And that's when I noticed the strange scene before me: instead of preparing to come in, he turned to me. To me. His expression was one of yielding. Of surrender. He smiled sheepishly, yet also mischievously at the the same time.
I knew what was going to happen a split second before it did: he walked toward me quickly; grabbed the back of my head, twining his fingers in my hair; and forcefully pressed his lips against mine.
Time slowed down.
I forgot about the thousands of screaming fans watching. I forgot about Ray, Mikey, and Bob. I forgot that Gerard totally just missed his cue.
All thoughts left my mind, and all that existed in the world was Gerard and I.
He worked his lips against mine furiously, shoving his tongue into my mouth. He tasted like beer and coffee, but the two tastes mingled and made it even better. As the initial shock wore off, I wrapped one arm around him, tilting my head slightly so as to make the kiss more passionate. All I wanted, all that I ever wanted, was right here, right now, in this dark concert hall that smelled like sweat and alcohol, in my arms.
And then, after so long and yet no time at all, it was all over: he broke off the kiss and shoved me away, stumbling slightly as he sang: I won't go down by myself, well I'll go down with my friends!!
I did my best to act like it was no big deal, but my insides were exploding with fireworks. I couldn't wipe the stupid grin off my face for the rest of the performance, and suddenly, everything seemed brighter: the lights, which had looked plain yellow, I could now see had thousands of colors. I swear I had never heard Mikey play better, nor had I ever appreciated Bob's percussion skills this much. I myself was playing louder and harder than ever, and Gerard was never more breathtakingly beautiful.
It was the perfect night until he came up to me and apologized, saying that we were just pissing off the homophobes, right? Nothing real, right?
All at once, my perfect night was ruined: the lights were suddenly dingier, as was my mood. I got in a huge fight with Mikey the next day on the tour bus....
It wasn't real...
"FUCK!!" I yelled. Why did I have to fall for someone so perfect?! Why me?! I slammed my face down on my bed and covered my head with my pillow, crying silently.
This is how my typical night went. But tonight was different...
"BZZZZZZ!!" came a loud vibration from my side table. I sat up and looked at my phone:
NEW TXT MSG
I sighed and flipped open my phone:
Hey can i come ovr? I need to talk to u
I typed a reply:
Sure i guess:P
I sat there for a moment, staring at the ceiling. What on earth did he have to talk about that he couldn't call me?
Kk be there in 5
I rolled over onto my stomach, trying not to think about him.
When the doorbell rang, I found myself sprinting to the door, vaulting the couch somehow. I threw open the door to find that he was soaking wet. I was about to ask him why, when a thunderclap behind him answered my question. "Uhh...come in," I said awkwardly.
He stepped into the light and I had to fight down a gasp: his hair was disheveled and the rain had made his shirt stick to him, showing his six-pack. I had never really noticed how incredibly muscular he was.
He caught me staring and grinned, though quickly regained his composure. He took a deep breath and said, "Uh, I don't want to drip water on the floor..."
"Nah," I shrugged. "I don't care. This place is a mess anyway. Sit down," I added. I schwumped down onto the couch (I just made that onomatopoeia up, because "schwump" is exactly the sound it made). He sat down next to me.
"So what did you want to talk about?" I said absently, reaching for a bag of chips on the coffee table. I just wanted to hear his voice again.
"Fuck, I don't know where to start," he murmured, staring up at the ceiling. "I guess...I just want your opinion on something."
"Okay. Well, how would you feel if I told you that I...loved someone?"
I almost choked on the potato chip I was eating.
"What do you mean?"
He took a deep breath. "This...person has been close to me for a long, long time, Frankie. And I want us to be together forever."
I froze. Don't you dare get your hopes up, Frank. Wishing only wounds the heart.
Even so, the flame of hope inside me that had long since been smothered rekindled suddenly. I quickly stifled it, and tried not to sound too overjoyed as I said, "Yeah, man! Go for it, I say. Who is this person, anyway?" I added as an afterthought, although this question obviously meant the world to me. I held my breath.
He didn't smile at all. "LynZ. I want to marry her."
All at once, with those six little words, he had unwittingly shattered my heart into a million pieces. It was irreparable this time, broken past the point of no return. I was immediately sucked into a wallowing black hole of misery, and it took all my willpower not to wail in despair.
"Great," I muttered. "I'm so happy for you, Gee." I gave an unconvincing smile that was a blisteringly painful lie.
"If..." His hazel eyes bore straight into my soul, as though he was reading my mind. "If you have any objection at all, please tell me now."
Of course I had an objection. I had hundreds. I was madly in love with him. LynZ was totally wrong for him. She wouldn't appreciate all the kissing-another stab of pain-we do onstage. If he married LynZ, I would kill myself.
I couldn't say any of that, though. We sat there in silence for a few moments, and I realized I was hyperventilating. His eyes moved down to my lips, and he just stared at them while awaiting my reply.
"No," I mumbled. "No, there isn't anything, Gee..."
It was then I realized that his soft, pink lips were centimeters from mine. Immediately, I regretted my denial.
He sat bolt upright and stood up, his arms hanging stiffly at his sides. "Thanks, Frank," he said, and I realized his voice was trembling. He was always so confident, but maybe LynZ had gotten to him. She always put him down.
He practically ran out the door. I stood up and watched him go, sprinting into the rain. Just as he was halfway across the lawn, he looked back. At that moment, lightning flashed across the sky, and I thought I saw tears on his face.
There were tears on mine to match.
Beside me lay a broken bottle of some kind of alcohol. The inky dark blood was smeared all over the floor, and I traced words in it as if in a trance. I hardly noticed what I was doing, but as I looked at my work, I saw what I had written:
Mama, we're all full of lies.
I was out of ink. The writing was oddly satisfying, seeing it there in my blood on the bathroom floor. I picked up the blade again, stabbing it into my arm. I grunted, but I almost didn't feel the pain anymore. As blood spurted all over my hands, I had an idea.
I picked up the knife in my right hand and pressed the tip of it to my left arm. Very carefully, I carved "Gerard" into my own flesh.
Now he would always be with me....
NEW TXT MSG
Hands shaking, I typed a reply:
I was starting to black out. I wrote one last sentence with my finger before completely losing consciousness:
If life ain't just a joke, then why are we laughing?
My last thought was: Why, Gerard?
I awoke in my own bed. My first thought was that I was alive. How disappointing.
I sat up, but immediately laid back down again with a groan: my head was pounding harder than it ever had, and I couldn't feel my arms. I took in the scene around me.
I wasn't in my room; I was in Gerard's. I was wearing a pair of his pajamas, and when I looked at my arm, I found that someone had stitched it.
"Well, fuck," I said aloud. Something moved in the corner of the room, and for the first time, I realized I wasn't alone.
A figure with shoulder-length black hair sat bolt upright when I spoke, and ran over to me. "Frank!! Oh my God, are you okay?!"
He threw himself on top of me in a hug that knocked the wind out of me. "Crushing," I managed to choke.
He pulled away, but there were tears in his eyes. "Why, Frank? Why did you do that to me?"
I gaped. "You can't be serious."
"What?" he said, lips trembling.
"You really can't figure it out, you dumbshit?" It wasn't rocket science. His name was carved into my goddamn arm.
The tears poured down his face. "Please, Frank..."
I was saved from the smartass remark I was about to make when Bob entered. "Gerard, I need to talk to Frank alone." He looked more serious than I had ever seen him, so serious that Gerard just nodded sadly and left.
Bob sat on the end of my bed and stared at me. We had a staring contest for a few moments; I guessed I won, because he spoke first.
"I saw your left arm," he murmured. "But he didn't."
I huffed and glared out the window. Usually, I would have found Gee and Mikes playing keepaway from Ray, but today I saw none of them.
"I stitched up your arm," he said. Bob was a med school dropout. "It should be better in about a week."
"Do me a favor," I spat. "Bring me my iPod and tell everyone to stay the hell away from me till I'm better."
Bob bit his lip. "I think you should talk about it-"
"I'll talk about it when I'm damn ready to talk about it."
When my week was up, I stole out of the house at night when everyone was asleep. I was about to applaud myself on my ninja-ocity when I saw Mikey standing in a door frame. He beckoned me closer.
"If you kill yourself now, after all that we've just done for you, I swear I will kill you," he whispered menacingly. He looked so scary that I didn't bother to point out the obvious problem with this statement.
When I was back at my own house, I found it unnaturally clean. All the alcohol was gone, as were most of my knives; only the dullest were left. A white-hot rage filled me for no apparent reason. You know what they say, I thought angrily as I flopped down on my bed. The sharpest knives are the deadliest to leave.
When I woke up, I knew I wasn't alone. I felt his weight on the end of my bed before I even opened my eyes.
"Oh, fuck, it's you," I groaned. "Can't you leave a guy alone?"
He didn't answer; as my eyes adjusted, I saw he was staring at my arm.
My left arm.
I tried to flip it over, but he grabbed it. He was far stronger than me; it was useless to fight him.
Tears pooled in his eyes as he traced the jagged letters spelling his name. He looked at me, and I couldn't keep up my angry pretenses anymore; tears spilled over my cheeks as he murmured, "Is this why?"
Very slowly, I nodded.
So fast that I didn't know what happened, his face was inches away from mine. His ghostly skin seemed to glow. "If you have any objection at all, tell me right now." He seemed urgent, like he needed me to say it for him to believe it. His bottom lip was quivering.
I didn't want to say it, had spent months trying to tell myself it wasn't true, had tennis matches with myself over whether or not it was true, but his beautiful hazel eyes drew the words out of my mouth. I murmured, in a broken whisper:
"I love you."
Suddenly, his lips were on mine again, so forceful. I hesitated for a second, then began to move my lips in time with his. I wrapped my left arm around his waist while my right hand twined into his hair.
We were finally kissing, kissing for real because we loved each other, not just for the fans' sake, not just to piss off the homophobes. It was pure bliss as his tongue entered my mouth, exploring every inch.
He then left my lips and started kissing my jawline. I shivered a little when he slipped his cold hands up my shirt, and my heart started hammering even harder than it was already. He murmured something unintelligible.
"What?" I managed to gasp.
"LynZ and I are done," he growled as his hot lips moved down to my neck.
What do you think? Like? Dislike? Fills you with desire to stab kittens? R+R, my lovelies...
ps no, this isn't the Frerard I mentioned I was working on in "I'm the only friend that makes you cry", this idea just came into my head.
pps HAHA instead of "the sharpest lives are the deadliest to lead" it's the sharpest KNIVES that are the deadliest to LEAVE ahahaha lolololol
Kk I'll shut up now.